French's International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and 
the United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors 



JIMMY 

B iplais (n ®nc Bet 

BY 

A. PATRICK, JR. 



Copyright, 1913, by Samuel French 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION.— The professional acting rights of this play are 
reserved by the publisher, Samuel French, 28-30 West 
38th St., Nevr York, and is subject to a royalty when pro- 
duced, and permission for such performances must be 
obtained before performances are given. This notice does 
not apply to amateurs, -w^ho may perform the play -Mi^ithout 
permission. All professional unauthorized productions -will 
be prosecuted io the full extent of the lavr. 



PRICE 25 CENTS 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



JIMMY 



B plais in One Bet 



BY 



A. PATRICK, JR, 



Copyright, 1913, by Samuel French 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION.— The professioiial acting rights of this play are 
reserved by the publisher, Samrael French, 28-30 "West 
3Sth St., New York, and is subject to a royalty when pro- 
duced, and permission for such performances must be 
obtained before performances are given. This notice does 
not ajuply to ansatenrs, M'ho may perform the play >vithout 
periootission. All professional unauthorized productions w^ill 
be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 



'^ . ^ 



JIMMY, 



CAST. 



William Bancroft. 
Jimmy. 

Time : — Midnight. 

Place: — Bancroft's living room. 



Q)C!.D 34797 



JIMMY. 



Scb^e:— Richly furnished living room. Window m 
center, hach. Door at left of window, hat rack 
by it. Center table with hooks and lamp on 
same; two easy chairs each side of table. Gel- 
lerette or Buffet over against ivall right. Fire- 
place left front; High-backed morris-chair be- 
fore it. 

(Curtain rises showing room in darkness except for 
light from fire and moonlight coming through 
window. ^¥ILLIAM Banceoft enters through 
door, slowly; acts depressed. Takes hat and 
coat off and hangs them on hat rack. Takes 
letter out of pocket and looks at it. Walks 
slowly down and takes seat in morris-chair— 
letter in hand.) 

William. The moth and the flame. A rag and a 
bone and a hank of hair. How true, {reads letter) 
Deak Billy,— I'm sorry Billy. Yon wonld love me, 
poor boy, and I conld not help being kind to yon. I 
sent this to your clnb, Billy, as I will never see yon 
again. Pray for me and forgive me, I conld not help 
loving him. (A chauffeur. Lord help her.) Think 
of me kindly as the years go by, (yes, I shall always 
do so) and when you are married may you enjoy 
love as I have found it. (Ah ! Little girl, you do not 
know what you ask— love is elusive, (throws letter 
in fire) Good-by fond love ' Burn.' And with your 



4 JIMMY. 

last dying embers blot out the memory of a fool's de- 
sire.) {sits meditatively) 

{Long pause. A man, poorly dressed; cap over his 
eyes, appears at window, peers in. A faint clich 
is heard. He opens window and steps into room. 
He moves ahout room playing electric light about 
room over the different articles of furniture. 
Light plays on gold-framed picture on table; he 
toJies picture and puts it in his pochet. Ha 
plays light up and down hack of morris-chair. 
William starts. Man walls over to buffet and 
starts to work at a draiver. William takes out 
revolver and looking over back of morris-chair, 
and — .) 

William. Hands up ! {smothered curse from 
Jimmy as he complies) Eight about face. (Wil- 
liam walks over and holds revolver against Jimmy's 
back as he searches him and takes a revolver out of 
his hip pocket) I've caught you. my fine fellow. 
.{grotvl fro7ri Jimmy) Keep perfectly still while I 
throw a little light on the scene, {lights lamp on 
table) Ah! Turn around so I can get a good look 
at you. This is the first time I ever had the pleas- 
ure of meeting a real live burglar face to face. 

Jimmy, {pulls hat further down over his eyes as 
he growls) Cut the comedy. You've got me dead to 
rights. What are you going to do about it? 

William. {examining revoher he took from 
Jimmy) A nice little toy and loaded, too ! I should 
think you'd be afraid it would go off. {slips it in 
his pocket. Jimmy looks around stealthily a^ Wil- 
liam examines revolver — starts to edge toward door) 
There, there, don't get nervous, {looks toward buf- 
fet) Ah ! Yes. See that decanter and those glasses 
over there? Bring them here and put them on the 
table. 

Jimmy. Quit your kidding. I've made a bloomin' 



JIMMY. 5 

fool of myself by being caught, so end the agony. 
Call the police, they will be glad to see me. What 
kind of a game are you playing any way ? 

William. Yes, it's a game we'll play. You'll 
play the part of butler. Come! Get a move on 
you. (threatening Jimmy, and as Jimmy gets the 
decanter and glasses) Yes, that's right. Bring 
them right over here, (as Jimmy puts them on 
table) So! ISTow, help yourself and pour one for 
me. (Jimmy protests hy actions and William 
flourishes gun and Jimmy pours two glasses. Jimmy, 
when through, stands directly in front of chair by 
table and William threatens Jimmy with the gun 
and commands in loud voice) Sit down! (Jimmy 
sits down hurriedly) Here's a toast to two poor 
devils who have each had a disappointment. 

(Both drinh.) 

Jimmy, (jumps up as he puts glass down) Now, 
I suppose, you will call the police? 

William. Wait! Come on, sit down. Don't be 
in such a hurry, we haven't had a smoke yet. (gets 
up, puts his revolver on table and walks over to buffet 
with back to Jimmy) 

Jimmy, (eyes the gun; looks at William's back; 
takes the gun, jumps up, pointing g.un at William) 
Now, hands up, you ! I've got you covered. 

William. (wheels around and walks toward 
Jimmy, laughing loudly) Ha! ha! It isn't loaded, 
you chump. Do you think I'd be fool enough to leave 
it on the table if it were? (Jimmy drops his hand 
by his side in disgust. William springs for Jimmy 
and they fight for the gun— William gets it) You 
certainly are some burglar. Of course it's loaded. I 
just wanted to test your nerve. You haven't got 
any. But, there, sit down. Let's talk it over. 

Jimmy. There's nothing to talk over. You've 
caught me; that settles it. 

William. It may be a little out of the ordinary 



6 JIMMY. 

to entertain a burglar but you've come at a time 
when I need diversion, and you must give it to me. 
If you make it interesting enough possibly there will 
be something in it for you. 

Jimmy, (angrily) What are you trying to do, 
make a fool out of me? 

William. No, I'll give you my word I'm not. 

Jimmy. Well, what do you want me to do ? Dance 
a highland-fling or sing a little opera? 

William. It may seem strange to you, but I'm 
lonesome. Come, smoke up. (hands a cigar over) 
Sit around a while. You've had a disappointment 
and I can sympathize with you. 

Jimmy, (mutters as he lights cigar-) Might as 
well humor him. 

William. Did you ever stop to consider how 
pointedly Kipling gave us the means of expressing 
our feelings about the woman who did not care? A 
rag and a bone, etc. (pause) I take it you are 
down on your luck? 

Jimmy. It couldn't be worse. • 

William. I suppose you look around this room 
and consider me a fortunate member of society, eh? 

Jimmy. I'd be satisfied to change places with you. 

William. Wealth and pleasant surroundings are 
of no avail when a heart is wounded. Like beauty — 
love, sorrow, and hate are no respecter of persons. 

Jimmy. You may be right, Mr. 

William. Bancroft. 

Jimmy. You may be right, Mr. Bancroft, but, 
believe me, sorrow, troubles and disappointments are 
not in it with real poverty. 

William. I guess you are right. But, how comes 
it that you, a strong man, cannot find honest employ- 
ment ? 

Jimmy. There are plenty to be had but I cannot 
keep them. 

William. Surely, a man of your appearance and 
education, as shown in your speech, can find plenty 
of honest work? 



JIMMY. 7 . 

Jimmy. You're right. There are positions for 
men who look like me. But, Fve got a record; Tve 
been in jail and the mark of the jail-bird is on me 
deep. It seems impossible to wipe it out. Oh ! I've 
tried. I got out of jail three months ago. I made 
a vow rd live straight. I did not realize what I was 
up against. I thought the best place to start would 
be a country town, so I tried one of the small up-the- 
state cities. I got a job. Having a pretty good edu- 
cation I got my chance as time clerk in a shoe fac- 
tory. But it was no use. A curse seems to follow a 
jail-bird. The past is like a seamonster; it stretches 
out ifs callous arms and drags a man down — down. 
A jail-bird's past is recorded in a mysterious informa- 
tion bureau. He gets a job. He is allowed to think 
himself safe. Then, when the past has commenced 
to fade, this mysterious, dreadful information bureau 
sends out through its underground channels — records 
of the man's past. It is fate. I commenced to no- 
tice it a month ago. The men began to shun me and 
east suspicious glances in my direction. I felt the 
blackness of despair creep into my heart. The blow 
fell at last. My employer called me to his office one 
day, and read to me — my record. My pleadings were 
in vain, I was fired. A man under a cloud without 
a home, without a friend. So here I am. It's the 
only way out. 

William, {stands up and faces Jimmy) Will 
you let me shake you by the hand? {they do) Your 
words moved me greatly. A moment before you came 
in I thought my life was a blank. The girl I loved 
ran away with her father's chaffeur. Our wedding 
announcements had been circulated. I was looking 
forward to happiness— when the blow fell. It left me 
stunned. I received her letter about seven o'clock 
and from then until eleven I walked the streets in a 
daze. When I came back to my rooms ten minutes 
ago the worst effects of the blow had passed and I was 
looking forward to a life without an incentive, with- 



8 JIMMY. 

out the spark that keeps one young, but your story 
has opened up a future for me. We can face life to- 
gether. Fight down our disappointments. Help 
each other to forget. 

Jimmy. What's the use. I am like a branded 
horse; if you take me in you will be caught with the 
goods. You're kind, boss, but 

William. Here ! Here ! We are both taking 
this too seriously. Now, here's another toast and a 
good one. (both take glasses) Oblivion to the past! 
Surely you are not a criminal at heart. Tell me your 
story, it will help you. 

Jimmy. My story, no doubt, is like many a man's 
who is serving time in Sing Sing to-day. I was born 
in a small country town. What a pleasant boyhood 
I had. An elder brother and I, between us, shared a 
mother's love, that is the only bright spot in my 
whole existence, {pause) Ever since I can remem- 
ber I had a desire to get away from the home town 
and see the world — what a mistake that generally is 
— -so when I was fifteen I packed up my belongings 
and with a few dollars I had saved up — left the town 
under cover of darkness. I left without a farewell. 
The ache to my mother's heart I did not consider, — 
then. Mother was the sweetest character on God's 
fair earth. Just the day before, she had been read- 
ing to us, and at the finish of the tale, put an arm 
around each of us and said, ^* A child's life lived hon- 
estly is a mother's only joy." 

William, {repeats in low voice) A child's life 
lived honestly is a mother's only joy. 

Jimmy. To make a long story short. I reached 
the city. My money gave out before I secured em- 
ployment. At a cheap lodging house I got in with a 
pretty tough lot. Soon as they learned I was down 
on my luck they began their evil suggestions. How 
well they knew the time to tempt me. They had a 
job on one night and said they could use me. After 
some argument I was persuaded. We did the job; 



JIMMY. 9 

they got away. I was railroaded for ten years. My 
God ! Ten years. I got out three months ago. You 
know the rest. 

William. There. You'll feel better now you've 
got that off your mind. I'll tell you how you can help 
me. My father died just six years and ten months 
ago and left an estate to be divided between my 
brother and myself. He has disappeared. I can find 
no trace of him. He will be declared legally dead in 
another two months. It will be your job to trace 
him. Is it a go ? 

Jimmy. Do you mean it. I'll be glad to do it. 
Give me the particulars. 

William. I have a picture of him around some- 
where, taken when he was a boy. I'll go and hunt it 
up. (leaves the room) 

Jimmy. If there were more men like him in the 
world what a difference it would make, {feels in his 
pockets and hrings out the picture — jumps to his 
feet) Here, Mr. Bancroft, the picture, {looks at it 
and starts) Little Jimmy Bancroft ! {starting to- 
ward door) My Brother ! {stops and waits hy table) 

William, {returning) I cannot find it. {no- 
tices picture in Jimmy's hand and his queer expres- 
sion) That's it, my man. What's the matter, do 
you see a ghost? 

Jimmy, {with feeling) Is the man you want to 
find James Bancroft? 

William. Yes ! Yes ! Do you know him ? 

Jimmy. You lived in Waynesville. Your father 
had a lumber mill? 

William. He did — You cannot mean, 

Jimmy, {hands picture to William and takes his 
hat off) Yes, I am he. 

William. {taking loth of Jimmy's hands) 
Jimmy ! 

{Hold taMeux.) 

CUETAIN. 



OCT 22 ^S^S 






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